


Calypso

by easton



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11366148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easton/pseuds/easton
Summary: “You had fun this weekend, right? I know the work was boring, but—”“No, for sure, it was cool hanging out with you.”





	Calypso

Their season ended. The semester dragged on.

Ryan wished he cared about school more; it’d make his mom happy, and between everything with Maine and the uncertainty and BU finally calling him up, a sliver of doubt wedged itself in his brain.

Then the season had started, and even people who _liked_ school hated General Studies, so it was easy to just let things… slide. Stick to what was expected from him and not much more. Bobo helped with that. He genuinely cared, sometimes even got upset when a road trip spared them from a presentation. Ryan felt more studious just by sharing a room with him. Still, everyone who planned on sticking around had to spend the last month of school year scrambling. Ryan’s NCAA requirements were fine, probably, but unless he was keen on repeating—

“Did Hansen say anything about extra credit?” Ryan asked, laptop balanced on his chest. Bobo glanced up from the humanities book that Ryan was also supposed to be reading, eyes wide, and, fuck, Ryan was fucked.

“Um, she seemed pretty chill about handing in late assignments? So I’m probably just going to go back and watch all the movies we missed, rewrite a few papers…” Bobo trailed off. Ryan groaned.

“Remember back in middle school when watching movies in class meant spending a week rewatching Mulan?” Ryan asked miserably, then brightened when Bobo laughed. “Yo, want to watch them together? You know it’ll be better that way.”

Ryan knew Bobo hated studying with him a little because he was always more interested in literally anything other than what they were supposed to be studying, but his tutor had said that talking through things was actually an _effective studying habit,_ and for movies and books and shit, at least, Ryan had found that to be true. Still, Ryan wasn’t super surprised when Bobo hesitated.

“I was planning on taking off this weekend, actually,” Bobo said, which actually was a little surprising.

He pulled it together enough to say, “That’s sick, man. Where are you off to?”

“Not far. My family has a house on Cape Cod. I just need to get out of the city for a few,” Bobo replied. At that, Ryan got a sympathetic pang. They were on the hook for most of the year, practices and games outside academic calendar keeping them pinned in Boston. Even then, they still weren’t off the hook for a shitty end of the season.

It wasn’t too bad most of the time, especially for local guys like them. But Ryan got it.

“Jealous,” Ryan admitted.

He didn’t mean anything by it, so he wasn’t expecting anything when Bobo said, “You could come, if you wanted? I still want to do work while I’m out there, it’s just, you know, a change in scenery.”

“Are you serious? Fuck, yeah, I want to loiter around your beach house.”

 _“Studying,”_ Bobo insisted.

 

* * *

 

It turned out to be a pretty light trip. As in, just the two of them. None of the guys in their class outside of CGS were going to bother with their studying vacay, Charlie had been MIA for a week with his girl, and Jordan—

“He laughed in my face and said he already had an A,” Ryan said as they loaded up Bobo’s Jeep, midday that Friday. _“No one_ gets an A. When the fuck did he have time to do shit?”

“You invited Sweeno?” Bobo said, kind of hesitantly.

Ryan replied, “... yeah? Did you not want me to? I just though—”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Bobo interrupted. He crawled into driver’s seat before Ryan could read his face, and then continued, “He doesn’t sleep a whole lot. He’s practically lives in Sleeper’s basement.”

Neither of them said anything as Bobo made several aggressive turns out of the parking lot and onto the main streets. They’re good buddies, there’s nothing off about them taking a solo trip, especially when Ryan knew how high strung Bobo could get. He needed this. It shouldn’t be weird. Ryan was _determined_ for it to not be weird.

Once they hit a steady speed on Route 3, Ryan reached out and ran a hand down over Bobo’s buzzcut, dragging his head back just a little. It made his hand prickle, and Ryan was once again happy he never went through with chopping his hair off, even if it looked good on Bobo. He said, “You guys have a private chef, right? We’re not gonna starve? Because I don’t think our professors will take starving to death as a legitimate excuse at this point.”

Bobo laughed, dimples popping out and making him look less serious, and said, “We can order take-out, don’t worry.”

 

They drove through to the outer cape, past the sort of houses that made Ryan feel like he grew up in an entirely different state. Even on vacation, his family went to the usual kitschy sort of beach towns. None of the neighborhoods there bothered. The Carpenter beach house strove for even greater seclusion, tucked away off a back road in scraggly coastal foliage. There’s already a car parked in the driveway. Ryan assumed it was just a cleaning service or something until Bobo said, surprised, “Oh.”

“‘Oh?’” Ryan echoed. “Were you expected an empty house?”

“Well, yeah,” Bobo responded as he pulled up next to it and threw it into park. “But, I mean, it’s just Alex.”

“Alex? Like, your sister Alex?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, she’s cool.” Ryan had only met her a handful of times, mostly in passing. She’d been quiet, like Bobo, and, despite being a bit shorter, looked enough like him that it’d be hard to dissociate them. And he already really liked Bobo.

After dropping their things inside and a quick tour of the house, Ryan trailed after Bobo as he exited out the back deck. Out by the shore, they spotted a lone figure, short ponytail whipping in the wind. As they got closer, he could see the phone held out in her hand. It was a nice view. The sun shined crystal clear but the wind whipped off the water in stinging sheets, the dying breaths of a New England winter. Not many people would be heading up there for awhile yet. Of course, maybe that beach was always empty. Could’ve been private, for all Ryan knew.

Ryan held back a few steps as Bobo stepped forward and threw an arm around her shoulder, twisting her around a little. He said, “I had no clue you were coming down this weekend.”

She shrugged, readjusted, and got her own arm around Bobo’s waist. “Mom said you’d asked her to keep the house empty, so,” she said. Her eyes finally landed on Ryan, and for a second, he got the distinct feeling that she was sizing him up. “Didn’t mention you had _plans,_ though.”

“No, it’s not— we were just sick of campus, _shut up,”_ Bobo said, flustered.

“Can’t sympathize, BC has a beautiful campus,” Alex crooned over the end, digging her fingers in.

They squabble for a few seconds, then separate, and Bobo sounded mostly sincere when he asked, “Why are you here, then?” Alex shrugged again. Bobo stared for a second before seeming to remember Ryan’s existence. “Oh, uh, this is—”

“I know your teammates, Robert,” Alex teased. She smiled at Ryan and said, “He talks about you a lot.”

Ryan didn’t know what to say to that, but he was saved by Bobo quickly objecting, “I talk about all my teammates! Jesus, can we get out of this wind already?”

Again, Ryan followed as they trekked back up to the house. Alex had actually planned for her trip and stocked the kitchen. Lots of protein. Bobo still wheedled out delivery pizza.

“And some booze?” Ryan said hopefully. Bobo shot him a look.

Once the food was ordered, they settled in the living room, Bobo and Alex flopping into two chairs without thought. Ryan sat on on the leftover couch, almost hesitant, like planting his ass in one lumpy cushion over another was going to disrupt the Carpenter feng shui. NBCSN pregame coverage hummed lowly on the TV. Capitals versus Devils. Ryan ignored the irony.

Two periods and two large pizzas later, the air was easy enough for Bob to ask, low, “You’re still going to Worlds, right?”

Ryan was confused for a second, thinking of May, until Alex huffed and said, “They’re still—I dunno. Yeah. Get another gold and see where that gets us. A bunch of Boston area players are flying out Sunday morning, but I still have so much crap to finish before graduation… I dunno, I wanted to get away for a few days.”

“I get it. Not as much, but we’re trying to catch up, too,” Bobo said, sympathetically, and Ryan started to worry he was serious.

 

When they went to bed, Ryan loitered in Bobo’s room for an extra hour, out of habit. Bobo had laid claim to the top bunk of a room facing the beach, presumably also out of habit. There wasn’t much to talk about; they weren’t missing much on campus, apparently, and neither had separated longer than it took to take a piss in the last twelve hours. Some of Alex’s mood seemed to have been absorbed by Bobo, which wasn’t terribly surprising. Ryan knew they were close, and Bobo was kind of a sensitive guy on the best of days.

“Alex had a really good season this year, right?” Ryan asked, thinking back to what Bobo had said over the year, other times when BU’s girls team would talk shop.

“One of the best,” Bobo said automatically. “Even without that, she was an _Olympian_ when she was our age. It’s bullshit that her and everyone else do so much for USA hockey and don’t get jack in return.”

Ryan didn’t know how to respond. He knew girls got a raw deal but not much past that. It’s not like he had any leverage in USA hockey, either.

Eventually, Bobo’s bedtime signals got too strong to ignore, and Ryan wandered off to his room to get over the awkwardness of jerking off in someone else’s house. Privacy, man, it's a hell of a drug.

 

* * *

 

The house was empty again when Bobo and Ryan woke up. Their morning stayed quiet, the two sprawled in front of the TV with their breakfast.

Alex returned much later through the back door. Her skin glowed from recent excretion from underneath a maroon running shirt and nylon shorts. She nodded her hello quickly, still out of breath, before disappearing back upstairs. Ryan’s legs tingled guiltily, but his season was over. Another week or two of sloth wouldn’t hurt him. Bobo, meanwhile, interpreted her return as a sign to start working. Ryan dragged his heels, less guiltily. Figuring out how to connect one of their laptops to the TV took long enough they nearly gave up. But Bobo was nothing if not tenacious.

“I don’t get it,” Ryan complained. The movie was artsy and foreign, meaning it probably wasn’t even halfway through.

“Reading the subtitles helps,” Bobo said. He was texting, the hypocrite. Ryan stuck his foot out and poked a toe in his ear. He laughed at the resulting yelp, his ankle getting slapped away.

“I _am,”_ Ryan insisted, mostly honestly. “What are we even supposed to be writing this paper on? Like, three pages of imperialism equals bad?”

“Yes,” Bobo said. Useless.

Alex showed up again after awhile to reclaim her chair. She thoroughly ignored them both, laptop open and headphones in, but Ryan got the appeal of passive company. It was slightly less boring. Conveniently, her academic stamina ran out just as Ryan begged for a lunch break, giving him the edge over Bobo.

They drove back into town and stopped at some unassuming seafood restaurant that made dining hall food seem like ash. Ryan sat across from Bobo and Alex and was struck again by how similar they were, in body and mind. Little mannerisms and expressions that Ryan recognized on Bobo showed on Alex. It felt weird, that they didn’t really know each other.

“I almost went to BC,” Ryan blurted out, in the middle of Alex talking about her roommates.

“You almost went to every school in Hockey East,” Bobo said, accusatory but light.

“BC was close,” Ryan argued. “They just, like, didn’t want to give me a decent scholarship.”

Alex smiled, and said, “BU’s a good program. Brought you two together, didn’t it?”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Bobo mumbled, shoving a roll into his mouth whole. Ryan followed his lead.

After, Ryan forced his credit card onto the bill over a small chorus of objections, an action that felt weightless when they made another stop at the grocery store after. They threw things on a whim, a few basics and a whole lot of sweet stuff. Alex was the one who reached for the liquor.

“We really don’t need any,” Bobo objected from behind the cart, probably still thinking of grades or something stupid like that. Ryan couldn’t have been more thrilled.

“Shut up, _Robert,_ don’t beat a gift horse,” he said.

“That’s not how that goes,” Bobo responded, but Alex spoke over him, “You’re welcome. Now go back to the car so they'll accept my card.”

They went, even though Bobo still didn’t seem thrilled. “Are you seriously planning on getting drunk tonight?” he asked.

“Hell yeah. Why shouldn’t we? We deserve it. It’s not like we’ll get hungover or anything.”

“We barely didn’t anything today, we shouldn’t reward ourselves,” Bobo said, surly.

Ryan sighed. “Fine. We finish today’s essay, and _then_ get drunk.”

It was a compromise.

 

Back at the house, the boys dragged out Bobo’s folder of handouts and small pile of books they were supposed to read over the semester. Ryan cranked out his before dinner. Lots of long quotes. His professor should be thrilled. Bobo took longer, typing slowly and rereading and double-checking.

“Dude, you’re going to get at least a B, relax,” Ryan said, having seized control of the TV remote. There were a lot of games on that night. He picked one at random.

Bobo mumbled something intelligible, and from the kitchen Alex asked, “Hey, Ryan, since you’re done, do you want to help with dinner?”

Truthfully, he had no interest, but it’d make him feel like a bad guest to say no. She didn’t ask for too much; just grill the chicken. Out in the cold. Plus the breeze.

Alex rolled her eyes when he grumbled about it. “Would a shot help warm you up?” she asked.

It wouldn’t hurt, he thought. He fetched the bottle of vodka from the freezer, eyed a double shot in a red solo cup. It went down easily. Alex said, “Good, right? The things you learn once you don’t work through a middle man anymore.”

“Seriously?” Bobo chimed in. Ryan glanced over to where he was peering over his laptop, and for the first time that trip, annoyance crackled through the fondness.

“Finish your homework or you’re going to bed hungry,” Ryan said before sliding out back with the chicken.

They came together for dinner, miraculously not burning down the house for the second time in a day. Ryan coaxed Bobo into splitting the six pack with him. Alex claimed to not like beer.

After, they tried finding something to watch, then played a couple different card games that didn’t quite work with three people, with Ryan finding any excuse to keep drinking. Two cans didn’t do much for Bobo, who only got tenser as the night went on. “What’s even the point of getting hammered tonight?” he’d hissed at one point, after Alex left the room for something.

“Chill the fuck out, dude, I’m fine,” Ryan retorted. The truth was that he was bored and stressed and anxious about doing this for another three years if a team didn’t bite, but he didn’t want Bobo to take that personally. And he would.

 

“So,” Ryan said, even later that night. “I noticed you guys have a _jacuzzi.”_

“Yeah,” Alex laughed. “What, you want to try it out?”

“Yes, that _was_ what I was getting at,” he replied. He looked over at Bobo imploringly, who shifted uncomfortably.

“You two can. I don’t—I think I’m gonna try and get Jordan to look over my paper,” Bobo said.

“Boring,” Ryan accused. Bobo shrugged.

Alex said, “I’m down. Let me go warm it up.”

The boys trailed upstairs. Ryan stumbled a little on the top step. He felt fluid stripping and putting on a pair of trunks, like his center of gravity was sloshing around inside of him. Nothing too bad. It would be cold outside, though. He brought himself to Bobo’s room to ask, “Yo, do you guys have those massive beach towels anywhere?”

Bobo peered down from his bunk. “There’s a linen closet across from the bathroom.”

“Cool, thanks,” Ryan said, and then, “Hey, are you good? I know this was supposed to be, like, _your_ trip—”

“It’s fine,” Bobo interrupted. “Really. Have fun.”

“Kay. If you’re sure. Love you, buddy.” And then Ryan spun away before he could rethink, although he did hear a vaguely affirmative hum in response.

Ryan grabbed two towels from the linen closet, right where Bobo said it was, then went back downstairs to wait for Alex. Had another shot, because why not.

When Alex came back down, Ryan couldn’t help but eye her for a second. Her bikini displayed solid muscle, the sort you’d expect from an athlete. His gaze didn’t linger. She retrieved her half-empty cup from the counter. Had she refilled from their last round of Cards Against Humanity?

“Hey, are you getting enough? I don’t want to hog the bottle,” he said. She laughed.

“Nah, I’m good, drink up. Girl metabolism, you know?” Ryan did, he thought.

The hot tub was insanely hot contrasted against the night air. It’d been dark for awhile, and the stars shone bright over the bay. Ryan tipped his head back and more felt than saw Alex follow him in. “Beautiful, huh?” she said. Ryan grunted in agreement, but felt comfortable enough to let them lapse to silence. He felt like he knew her now. The jets and the heat melted Ryan, until he swore he could feel his brain draining down his spine. He could tell his face was burning red, from the water and the booze. He’s not sure how long it was until Alex asked, “You want to get out and cool down for a minute?”

Ryan did. He tried sitting on the edge of the tub, legs still in, but he nearly toppled over. The only thing saving him was Alex’s hands on his arms. “I think I got drunker in there,” he admitted.

“Blood flow,” she acknowledged. “How ‘bout we switch over to the lounge chairs instead?”

The chairs were, indeed, much sturdier. Wooden, weather-proof, meant to last. Bobo and him had been out there earlier, tanning, and the one Alex maneuvered Ryan onto was still reclined. Better to see the stars now.

“I feel like a lobster,” Ryan slurred, drunk-limp and heavy. His thoughts had a heavy tilt to them, slipping into darkness as soon as quick as they appeared. The excess heat was draining quickly. He’d be back to normal soon.

Alex laughed kindly. “But you’re not a lobster. You’re a boy.”

Ryan was still processing what she said when a weight settled over his arms, his shoulders, cutting off his field of vision, skin against skin. He’s still confused, somehow, until the weight shifts and something wet, no, _slick_ brushed against his mouth. There wasn’t much room for him to move away or turn his head, and say, “No, wait, Alex, I don’t—”

A hand reached back and tugged hard at his hair, holding him in place as Alex said, “Ryan. Be a good boy.”

Ryan didn’t know what to do. He’d never been one to turn down sex, and he liked Alex enough, but this… this wasn’t what he wanted. He was stronger than her, bigger, but what would happen after? She was a girl, and one who’d reached levels of success Ryan had stopped even dreaming of, and Bobo _—_

What if Bobo knew? Was this their _thing,_ him playing matchmaker for his big sister?

Ryan’s mind reeled. When her voice said, “Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue,” he did.

The smell of chlorine lingered, but the taste didn’t. She groaned above him, grinding against his mouth. Ryan could feel the folds of her cunt, her juices sliding on his tongue, down his throat. It left his face all wet, dripping down his cheek. He doesn’t move, which didn’t seem to bother her in the least. It was more than he’d ever been able to coax out of a girl before.

Another shift in weight, and the hand left his hair. It reappeared on his thigh, pressing down as another tugged on his clammy shorts. Ryan whined, startled, but it only made Alex moan and send another flood down his throat. Her hand was efficient on his dick, quickly coaxing him to hardness. He had no clue _how,_ because he didn’t _want_ this, but he still felt the tight pressure building in his lap.

Finally, Alex rose—when had she taken off her bikini bottoms?—and turned to face him before saddling his hips. Fear jolted through Ryan, forcing out of his mouth, “Wait, I… condoms?”

She waved him off. “I have an IUD.” Matter dealt with, Alex reached down, lined Ryan’s cock up against her cunt, still dripping wet, and lowered herself on him with ease. She loaned lightly, and began to rock her hips against his. Normally, Ryan liked it when girls stayed deep. He still did. Alex kept a steadying hand on Ryan’s abdomen and another on her clit, rubbing furiously, eyes closed, and Ryan could feel that familiar tension building under her hand as she throbbed hotly around him.

Ryan came with a barely-contained squeak, and Alex followed soon after. When she kneed back up, he slid out of her with a sickening splat. She hummed, annoyed, and slid off the chair. After picking up the other half of her swimsuit and wrapping herself in one of the towels Ryan brought down, Alex said, “I gotta go shower. Don’t forget to lock up when you come in.” She turned off the hot tub on her way in.

 

A long while later, Ryan sat up and hobbled towards the crashing sounds of water. Even then, he was so drunk, _god,_ how hadn’t he noticed? It would have been easy to pass out, but he couldn’t. He picked a direction and walked. Isolated and untouched, everything looked the same, but he needed to _go._ Not be at that house. Sleep on the beach, if necessary.

At that time, with the ever-present wind, the temperature was certainly below freezing. The chill set deep in Ryan’s bones before he walked even a mile away. Slowly, he realized there was no getting away.

Ryan re-entered the Carpenter house cautiously, moreso than the first day, like it was newly hostile territory. All seemed quiet.

He felt dirty. An unexamined aversion drove him a sink shower in the downstairs bathroom. New clothes made him feel better for a second, but lying in the room’s solitary queen-sized bed made his heart pound. The door seemed more like a bomb than a barrier. Eventually, he gave up, throwing himself from the room.

Bobo didn’t stir when Ryan cracked his door, then opened it completely. His laptop was still open next to his head, though the screen had gone dark, along with a few papers. He couldn’t have known. Ryan knew that now. He settled on the bottom bunk with relative peace.

 

* * *

 

When the door creaked again early in the morning, Ryan awoke immediately. He forced himself to play dead as someone entered the room and said quietly, “Hey. Robert. Wake up.” Bobo stirred and grumbled. He was always that easy. “I’m heading out soon. Wanted to say goodbye.”

More grumbling, and then a clearer, “Love you.”

“Love you more,” Alex said, and then, “Tell Ryan I said bye, too. It was nice getting to know him.”

 

When Ryan finally pulled himself out of bed, the driveway was half-empty, as promised. Bobo had been up longer, but waited to eat breakfast. They ate. Ryan didn’t put up a fight when Bobo pulled up another film. This one was easier, already framed by yesterday’s, and even Bobo was done half-assing an essay by lunch.

“What do you want to do now? We could make shitty mimosas, pick up sea shells…” Bobo trailed off, open.

“No,” Ryan said quickly. He’d avoided so much as looking at the door leading out back. He added, trying to soften it, “Nah, come on, we aren’t our moms. Are there, uh, hiking trails or something around here?”

Neither of them had brought hiking gear, but Bobo said, “Yeah, sure, we can do that.”

Bobo drove them to a nearby national park, the sort of flat and easy ones families brought their kids to. He was good enough pointing out this bird or that turtle that Ryan imagined that Bobo had been one of those kids, at some point. It was nice, seeing some signs of life. Spring wasn’t too far off.

The end goal of Bobo’s chosen path became clear when they turned a corner and hit the sound. He looked proud to have navigated them so efficiently. They take a few photos, Instagram bait, before falling into silence.

“You had fun this weekend, right?” Bobo finally said. The sun was shining again but his nose and ears were still red. “I know the work was boring, but—”

“No, for sure, it was cool hanging out with you,” Ryan replied. His gut twisted, but that much was the truth.

“Good. That’s good,” Bobo murmured, before falling silent again. Ryan was almost going to prompt him again, to see if there were more hidden gems or if they should get going, when he said, “Um—”

And then his hand was on Ryan’s neck, gently, oh, so gently, as he leaned down and brushed his lips against Ryan’s.

Ryan froze.

Immediately, Bobo’s hand dropped and he stepped back, face a blazing red. “God, sorry, I don’t—”

“Dude,” Ryan said, reeling, wondering what it would have meant if this happened twelve hours before, “I—”

“It’s fine, I had no idea what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s just—”

_“Stupid—”_

“Alex—”

“What about Alex?” Bobo finally caught, eyebrows drawn together.

Ryan’s word got stuck in his throat. He could feel it everywhere, on his face, but he could only watch as Bobo came to the right conclusion, his face crumbling as he said, “You had sex with my _sister?”_

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Ryan didn’t know what to say, if he could explain any of this without hurting him.

“It’s fine, you don't have to say anything. You’re your own people. Forget I did anything,” Bobo said finally, face turned downward as he stepped away. “There’s a short cut over here. That was just... the scenic route.”

Ryan followed. It was quiet ride back up to Boston.


End file.
